Starry Eyed
by SelfDestructIn54321
Summary: Tris is a psychic. She has never met another of her kind. Until now. ONESHOT. T for paranoia.


**Okay, inspiration: Ellie Goulding/Starry Eyed. Enjoy, lovelies.**

**ONESHOT.**

My light blue nails tapped lightly, rhythmically, on the steering wheel. I'd painted them fresh this morning. The night sky outside was dark, much darker than my nails or the periwinkle headphones that perched upon my ears; the stars were pinpricks of light, tiny white splashes of brightness above the Earth. And was it my imagination, or were they getting bigger-

My hand shot out, and spun the volume up some more; the stars shrunk to their original size. I sighed at the close call, and paced my finger-tapping to the beat of the chorus of _Whisper_ by Evanescence.

_Dammit, Tris__, _I thought, _Quit __it with the fucking stars!_

. . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . . .. . . . . .

Dinner with my parents is uneventful, save when mom asked if I had a boyfriend which caused dad to choke on his peas and Caleb—my brother—to burst into laughter.

Yeah. Aren't I a flirt?

Mom and dad decide to do the dishes, and leave Caleb and me to talk. A minute into an argument about black or white, the doorbell rings.

The door isn't far from the table, so I stand up to answer it.

"Hey, Tris," says the natural, un-chipper voice of Four, my next door neighbor," I heard you were in town."

"Yeah," says Caleb, neutrally," but she's not here for you. Run along."

"Caleb, stop being a bitch," I tell him, shutting the door behind me. I yell over my shoulder, "I'll be back in the morning!"

"Hey, Four," I say, making way towards my car, "how's football?" I ask.

Everyone calls Four by his football jersey number; no one knows his actual name, not even teachers.

"It's fine," He murmurs, settling into the passenger seat.

Our hands bump; we'd both gone for the headphone jack. I smile what I hope to be a nice smile, though I am nervous.

"It's okay, you can have it," I say.

He smiles back, "Nah. They're wireless," he says, and detaches the cord from one ear, presses a button on the other, and places them on his head, leaving one behind his ear.

I did the same. I know if I get panicky, I can put it back on.

Four flips through my CDs, and comes up with one that he puts in before I can see it. I know it is Skillet, because I recognized the opening notes of _Rise_.

So, he's a Skillet fan. Great.

Eric liked Skillet. He used to play it, while he-

In a split second, _The Open Door_ begins to play. I relax into the lovely sounds of _Lacrymosa_, which is where I had paused my music last night.

Four didn't acknowledge the change to Evanescence, or my panic in changing the song

I keep driving.

. . . . . . . ..

Halfway through _Call Me When You're Sober_, Four points to the left and says, "Stop here." I comply; I'm not going anywhere special, just driving.

We used to walk here when we were kids.

"What's over here?" I ask, parking next to the curb.

"Awesome view of the stars" he says with a shaggy smile.

My blood runs cold, but I smile back and follow him to the edge of a cliff. His hand intertwines with mine on the way there, and my lips curve into a slight smile. We sit down, and hang our legs over the cliff. Even though I'm afraid of him finding out my secret, I notice the beauty of the cliff, the grass, and what I can see of the dark sky without looking up.

I see it waver.

My breath goes out, and I focus on tearing grass into inch-long pieces.

"Hey, let's look at the stars!" Smiles Four, pulling on my hand to try to get me to lie back.

I sigh, and look up at the sky.

When a streak of dark blue paints the sky, my hand pulls a tuft of grass free from the ground. Four's grip tightens around mine, and when I turn to look at him, his eyes are their dark blue, but the irises have taken up his whole eye, whites and all. They're spotted with whites and blacks.

He's Starry Eyed.

He turns to look at me, meeting my eyes—which now match his, except that mine are grey-blue—and the sky redoes itself, matching a blend of each of our eyes.

He smiles, and this time, mine is genuine.

We're both Starry Eyed.

I've found another one.

I pull him to me by his neck, pressing my lips to his, and the sky begins to firework.

We're Starry Eyed.

**There you are, lovelies, the beta'd version! Thanks to said betas, alexmichele and pinkrose14, for making this NOT AS SUCKISH! Review!**


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